


Largesse

by queen_insane



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But so does Will, Character Death is in Passing, Cuba, Fluff, Hannibal Gives the Best Gifts, M/M, Murder Husbands, Not Will or Hannibal, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, SO MUCH FLUFF, dark!Will, the lightest of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 01:18:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8947486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_insane/pseuds/queen_insane
Summary: Hannibal and Will escape to Cuba to heal, and Hannibal cannot stop giving Will things.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought my brain had given up writing these two a very long time ago. But, not so! I'm so glad my brain has decided to bequeath upon me at least one more fic. This is made to be quasi in the season, but is not actually a Holiday story.

Two months after the fall from the cliff they arrive in Cuba. They settle in Matanzas, a city a little under two hours from Havana. On the first night they stay in a inn and Hannibal takes them out to eat. The meal smells of spices and a comfort food that Will did not know he needed until the aromas haze his senses. After, they go for a stroll on the city's narrow sidewalks. As they walk Hannibal takes them along the waterways and over the many city bridges. The more he sees the more Will realizes why Hannibal choose this place. It reminds him oh so vaguely of Venice, of Italy. On the sidewalk a woman stands, a hat by her feet as she speaks in a rhythmic flow. Will doesn’t fully understand the language, but he understands tone and something about the poem tugs at his heartstrings. He leaves the woman a large sum of money and Hannibal laughs softly. Even now Will supposes he has a bleeding heart.

The next day Hannibal arrives at their inn in a small but opulent car, and drives them out of the city, although not so far that they cannot come back easily. The drive lasts no longer than fifteen minutes, but winds its way through the countryside of the island and down a private road. Finally he stops in front of a house. It is not so small that one would call it quaint, but it is homey. It is made of white brick painted bright egg shell blue. Inside there is a large kitchen that overlooks the ocean, filled with all the small knickknacks and tools that Hannibal will need to make it his own. There is a much smaller sitting room, with soft white furniture - wood that has been stressed to make it look ravaged by wind. There is also a dining room with a large table that can seat at least six, but also looks as if it can be pulled apart at the middle to add an extension. Will wonders if they will ever have enough guest to fill it.

Upstairs there are two bedrooms, one that has been decorated in a lighter muted green, a sturdy oak bed pushed against the wall and a desk in one of the corners. This was made to be his room, Will muses. But he and Hannibal have grown past separate rooms he thinks - so he will not be using it. Instead he thinks to sell the bed and turn it into a office, perhaps with a bigger desk. A desk where he can string his fishing hooks and Hannibal can read upon his tablet late into the night. As he thinks this he decides that they may need two desks instead.

The last room makes use of the white bricks the house is made of. They have been painted a very soft white. A simple but airy bed faces outward to the sea, overlooking a deck with a glass table and chairs. There is a white wooden bookcase in the room as well, waiting to be filled up with tomes and stories from far off lands and places. Hannibal sits on the bed and eyes Will warily, “Do you like it?” There is a hint of unease in his voice as he asks this, as if he’s still in awe that Will is still here - that he has not left him yet.

Will walks over to the doors that lead to deck and pulls them open. When he does his ears are assaulted by the sound of the sea, by the way the light dances off the water, by the fishing boats the dot the waves far off in the distance. He takes this all in, and is slow to answer, “It is... it is not your office or your home back in Baltimore. Nor my home tucked away in Wolf Trap.” He pauses again, perhaps cruelly in his intent to make Hannibal wait for his answer. He thinks of how much work Hannibal must have put into this abode - into finding something that would please them both, “But I do think I could come to call it home.”

By the way Hannibal’s shoulders lower just a little, tension gone - Will knows that this answer is the right one.

**+++**

They find work. Which is to say Hannibal finds work, and Will finds many hobbies to occupy his time. He fishes in the morning, renting out one of the small boats in the marina. In the afternoon he tries to sell his catches to people in some of Matanzas’ many markets. Occasionally he is successful, often times he is not. Other times he returns home to read, picking up books in the region’s Spanish dialect, hoping to eventually catch on to the local language. Hannibal ends up working at a small clinic in Matanzas, returning to doctoring work once more. When he comes home at night he speaks of his plans to expand the clinic’s presence in the city, so that they may attract richer clientele. Will warns him one night not to go too far, as to not attract too much attention. Hannibal dismisses him. This is the first time they argue. Because Will has already re-purposed the green colored room Hannibal had created for him they have to sleep together that night. There is no escaping each other. Their bodies do not touch.

The next morning is perhaps more stilted, Will tries to bridge the widening maw between them but it only causes it to grow larger. The evening is not much better, and Will can tell in Hannibal’s food. It is good to be sure, but he cooks with bitter materials. The pulled pork and varied rice and bean dishes are nowhere to be found. There is no desert.

In the morning Will wakes to find that Hannibal has left early. There is food on the table, something far sweeter than what Hannibal had made the night before. The taste of food sets Will’s curiosity ablaze. He sips the café con leche, as he nibbles on the fruit bowl in front of him and looks out over the ocean. Today Will decides that he will go for a swim instead of fishing. He has already overslept, it is too late to fish. So he goes into their house and changes into his swim trunks, travels down the private sandy path behind their home that leads to the sea. For what feels like hours he loses himself to the waves. When he returns Hannibal is home, and unpacking groceries. This is odd, as Hannibal is not usually home during midday, “Did something go wrong at the clinic?” Will asks.

“I wish to take you somewhere.” Hannibal says, “I have canceled all my appointments for today.”

That is all he needs to say, to get Will to go with him. The taste of that morning’s breakfast still lingers on his tongue and he hungers to know what it means.

They drive into the city, and Hannibal holds Will’s hand as they drive. Thumb massaging the inner recesses of Will’s palm. Each passover of his thumb pushes at the blood under the surface and heals something between them that has recently been broken. It was no teacup, they were no longer such fragile things - but the feeling of their hands acts like adhesive bonding them together once more. Mixing their madness until the lost ouroboros blossoms between them again.

Finally they pull into Will’s favorite marina and they walk down one of the wharves to stop in front of an unfamiliar unnamed boat. It is a small thing, and does not stick out among the grander fishing boats. But it is sturdy, Will can tell. The ship rocks softly with the tide inside the harbor, light hitting it at just the right angle to make the mahogany color of the boat glow red, “She is yours.” Hannibal tells Will.

“What?”

“In apology for two days ago. What you said about remaining low profile, you were right.”

Will decides to not argue the boat, although he is sure it cost a pretty penny despite how small it is. He has learned that once Hannibal has done something it hard to make him undo it. Instead he says, “Thank you.” And, “For now.”

“For now?” Hannibal asks of him.

“Sometime, maybe later when the scrutiny of us has passed. Then we may make a display of it. But not yet.”

“And you will let me know when, I am sure.” Hannibal says.

“I will.” Will answers.

“Now.” Hannibal speaks as he rubs his hands together, “What do you plan to name her.”

There are many names, Will knows. Some far less painful. But looking at her, and truly seeing the boat for who she is, there is truly no other name, “Abigail.” He replies.

**+++**

After the boat and after the house, when life has become easy Hannibal tells Will that he is going away for a few days. That his doctoring work is going to take him out of the country. For a moment Will feels dread. But he does not react with anger this time. Instead the two of them sit down and talk about the news that Hannibal has told him, they discuss safety and when Hannibal will be back and what to do if he does not return. Will hates that they have to have his conversation, but it is necessary and important and unavoidable. Finally Will gives his consent, and Hannibal thanks him. Promises with his hands, and his lips, and his body that he will be safe. That night they fuck as if they are saying good-bye, but also as if they are saying hello after a long voyage. For luck. For “I will see you again.”

The next day Hannibal packs his bags and by midday he is gone. For the first few hours, until the sun begins to set Will is not lonely. He has to deal with being alone during the day all the time, so his mind does not have the time to notice the lack. But as the sun begins to set, and he is forced to make his own dinner he finally begins to notice. The empty space next to him in bed drives the point home and Will wishes for Hannibal’s return, he wishes for his safety.

The next few days blend into each other but Will finds things to do. He and Hannibal talk on the phone often, and hearing Hannibal’s lit calms him. Each time he hears it, it is reassurance that Hannibal is alive. That he is walking free, that law enforcement has not gotten to him yet. On the day that Hannibal is to return Will drives into town to go to the local market; his mind set on making Hannibal a meal for his return. He had caught a rather large fish that morning, and thought it best not to waste it. Once he returns home he finds Hannibal’s car already in their driveway. This is odd, because Will does not expect Hannibal to be home for a few hours yet.

He opens the door and is greeted by the smell of already cooking food. Inside the kitchen Hannibal is chopping away at something on his chopping board. Will puts his bags down and half laughs, “I was planning on cooking for you tonight.”

“My trip turned out to be a bit shorter than I was expecting, so I thought to surprise you. You may cook for us tomorrow if you wish.”

“I wish.” Will tells him.

He has learned to cook a few interesting dishes in Hannibal’s absence, “Then it is settled.” Hannibal says and scrapes what Will can now tell is garlic into a small pan with simmering butter in it, “I got you a gift on my travels. It is upstairs in our office on your desk.”

Will arches an eyebrow but says nothing. Instead he walks upstairs. As he travels further upstairs he hears movement from inside their office. Pushing the door open he is greeted by sixty plus pounds of dog. For a moment he thinks that he should be angry. He knows that Hannibal must have risked everything for this. But as Winston licks his face, Will cannot find it in himself to care. Later Hannibal will tell him that Molly is still safe and Will will let out a sigh of relief he does not know he is holding.

**+++**

Once they start killing again they quickly realize that they cannot display their kills in the same elaborate and public way they once did. Instead they host private displays in their home for each other. Sometimes they gave warning, other times they do not.

Eight months after they settle into their life on the small island Will arrives home to an oddly silent house. The door is unlocked, but he hears no movement from inside. Standing in the entryway he places his house-keys - now useless, in the bowl near the door. Checking on Winston he finds the dog asleep on their living room couch. Satisfaction crinkles the skin near his eyes seeing Winston curled into himself. He wanders upstairs and peeks into the room that he and Hannibal share. It too is empty. However their shared office space is not.

Inside a body hangs from the ceiling arms stretching upward, until the hands meet together in a point. The stomach and chest are cut from sternum to belly, and taut skin pulls back to reveal an empty cavern where all the vital organs have been removed save the heart, which dangles downward into the hollow cavity. The legs of the victim spread outward, feet flat on the floor. There are blackout curtains on the windows for privacy, and a tarp lays on the floor to catch blood splatter. Every other surface is covered in candles, lit and flickering. The way it has been set up reminds Will of pictures he saw once as a little boy in travel books. Of canals, and cafes, and beautiful white and gold architecture. It reminds him of, “Paris?” He says turning to look at Hannibal who is leaning against the door frame staring at him, eyes dark with a hunger that looks something like love.

“The city of love, or so they say. A city of immeasurable peace, and wondrous youth. Where one can see the world if they so try.”

“T.S. Eliot?” Will inquires.

“In a way.” Hannibal answers, “You do know your poetry well, dear boy.”

Will ignores him and turns back to look at the body, the heart is obvious - Hannibal is fond of displaying his love in bodies when it comes to Will. However the rest of Hannibal’s art remains in a shroud, which is rare between them, “Why Paris? Why the Eiffel Tower?”

“Because I wish to take you.” Hannibal says plainly.

“Would that be wise?” Will presses, “It has only been eight months.”

“If we are careful, I do believe we can get away with it.”

“Being careful is not always easy.” Will says.

“No, it is not. And yet, here in Cuba we have managed. I do not think it so impossible to be just as careful in Paris.”

From the way that he stands, Will knows that Hannibal’s mind has long ago been made up. Perhaps, he has already bought the tickets. But as Hannibal says, the two of them have remained under the radar for so long that most searches have been called off. If they were to go, it would not be so hard. And as long as they keep their heads down and blend with the crowd, they might even have a pleasurable trip. It would do good to experience a different sort of life, and a different sort of food, “How long will we go?” Will inquires.

“As long as it takes you to fall in love with the city.” Hannibal answers, smiling a shark’s grin of victory.

**+++**

Six days into their Paris trip Hannibal returns from the hotel lobby and says, “I know where Bedelia is.”

It does not take long for Will to say, “Take me to her.”

The whole thing is bold, and perhaps a bit overeager but Hannibal knows that Will has been chomping at the bit to get to her. It has been almost a year now since their escape and Will thinks they can spare themselves this one selfishness. The articles about them have petered off, and now only Freddie still writes about them diligently. Their names have been moved far down the wanted list. No one is watching for Bedelia any more. If she were to disappear, no one would know. She would be a footnote in the history of missing people killed by the great Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal smiles when Will answers, terrible but beautiful, “She is in the city. A small stop over on her trip around Europe. Tomorrow she plans to leave, and hopes to never return.”

“You knew she would be here.” Will accuses.

“No. Actually.” Hannibal tells him, “I found out a day or two ago. She favors a small cafe I was forced to give up, upon seeing her face. A travesty, I must add as they did truly have the best pastry.”

“Then yes, let us go.” Will says, “But you must promise me something Hannibal.”

“Hm?” Hannibal asks.

“Her life in return for sparing Alana and Margot.”

“You wish to make a bargain out of this?” Hannibal raises an eyebrow.

“I wish it.” Will says, “You have always wanted to see me kill someone known from our past. You cannot deny this.”

“I cannot. But after this, I will make no more bargains.” Hannibal tells him.

In this Will can read between the lines. Alana for Bedelia. But more importantly, Alana for Jack. It is, Will thinks - a deal that he can live with. After all, he will not be taken from Hannibal - not again. If they are to see Jack once more, surely this will be the man’s intended outcome. Jack’s life has been made forfeit a long time ago.

**+++**

A year. That is how long they have been together and free. Two long months of healing, and eight months spent in Cuba soaking up the sun and recovering spiritually in a way that stitches and gauze cannot fix. The scar on his check no longer hurts when he touches the inside of his mouth with his tongue or when he speaks. Instead it has become a badge, a battle wound worn with pride. He has other scars too. The place on his shoulder where Dolarhyde stabbed him. Where, when the lights are low and night has come Hannibal kisses as if to say - mine. In an attempt to reclaim the scars that he himself has not made. Once Will had suggested Hannibal remake that scar, and while Hannibal’s eyes looked as if they wanted to say yes, he had eventually said no. The two of them still wounded each other with words on the occasion, but perhaps because of all the blood they have already inflicted upon each other the idea of such deep scars held no more interest to them.

Instead their marks come from bruises made when someone holds too tightly or kisses too roughly, on empty patches of skin. Marks that will be felt but fade overtime. Marks that mirrored the continued non permanence of their life. They have made roots here in Cuba but roots and trees could be upturned. Maybe next year they will no longer be in Cuba, forced to move on by events unseen. Maybe they will be dead for taking on a kill that fought back to hard. Maybe they will be in jail, plaster and walls between them. They do not know and so their marks reflect that. The ever changing flow of who they were, of who they have become. All of it, so unknown.

Below him Hannibal kisses the smile on his belly and his eyes shine their pleasure, their contentedness. There is nothing of the grief that was in them that night Will bleed out on Hannibal’s floor. The night their daughter died. If he were to look in a mirror right now Will is sure his eyes would reflect the same thing. Anger and fury can only be maintained for so long. It is not an emotion that can forever drive a life, eventually emotion will bend and break. When Will’s had broken he had thought he would find emptiness, but instead he has found - “I love you.” He says looking at Hannibal.

“Oh?” Hannibal says, and tilts his head, “You have not told me that before.”

It is true. His actions have spoken of love but never his mouth, “Hmmmm. Well I mean it.” Will hums.

“Know then, that your feelings are returned.” Hannibal declares and crawls up the bed so that Will may rest against him, sex forgoten.

“Such a heavy thing love.” Will muses.

“One of the heaviest weights of all.” Hannibal says, “Yet I would suffer it’s blade again, and again if to find you here. Waiting.”

Will twines their fingers together, and marvels at how well they fit, “Yes.” Is all he says.

Outside the waves crash against the shore, pulled ever onward by the call of the moon’s gravity. Unable to escape the moon’s luminous glow. Perhaps, not even wishing to at all.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Hannibal makes mention of by T.S Eliot is "Portrait of a Lady" and the lines from it are:
> 
> "Yet with these April sunsets, that somehow recall  
> My buried life, and Paris in the Spring,  
> I feel immeasurably at peace, and find the world  
> To be wonderful and youthful, after all."


End file.
